


They will come

by Eccentric_or_weird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fear of Death, Kidnapping, Love, Pain, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eccentric_or_weird/pseuds/Eccentric_or_weird
Summary: The reader has been captured by a demon and is being tortured, mainly to cause pain to Sam and Dean.  As he gets going, it's not certain whether the Winchesters will make it in time...
Kudos: 7





	They will come

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic, so please do leave comments, even if it's just to tell me to stick to my day job! Not really the type of thing I had in mind for my first stab at this, a little self-indulgent, but it kind of wrote itself. Hope you enjoy it.

“You think that just because you’re a girl I won’t hurt you?”

The demon places his hands on the arms of the chair you are secured to and leans in close, his fetid breath warm against your face even as you try to pull away from it. 

“I enjoy it even more with girls, especially when they cry and plead and scream. Please, feel free to scream.”

He moves back with a smirk, turning to face the array of instruments laid out on the table a few feet away. You try to force down the panic which is threatening to surge up into your throat and overwhelm you, pulling again at the bonds around your wrist, ignoring the flare of pain as the rope cuts further into your abraded skin. But the demon has made it impossible to break free, even if you could release your hands, the ropes around your neck and ankles are stark reminders of the impossible situation you are in. You also suspect that you have several broken bones which, even if you could get free, would make escape difficult to say the least. 

“I suppose you think the Winchesters will save you, swoop in at the last second like the heroes they think they are, kill the monster and save the day?” He gives a low chuckle and shakes his head in mock sorrow. “I’m afraid I’ve arranged for them to be kept rather busy this evening. So we have all the time in the world to really get to know each other.” Having selected a tool with a wickedly sharp blade he moves back towards you, a sadistic grin fixed in place. “By the time they get here, there probably won’t be much left of you to save”.

Despite the pain and sense of hopelessness that sweeps over you, his words provoke a white hot anger deep within. “You stupid son of a bitch!” Your mouth is painfully dry and the split and bleeding lower lip makes speaking difficult, but you manage to force out a mirthless laugh. “What do you think those boys are going to do to you when they get here and find me dead? You know what they’re capable of, what they’ve done, how many of your kind they have slaughtered. What makes you think that you’ll be able to outrun them when they come for you?”

The demon’s grin falters and fades, though whether it’s because he believes your words, or because he prefers his subjects to be frightened and quaking, you’re not sure. He lunges forward, transferring the blade to his left hand and swings with his right, connecting hard with your left cheekbone, cracking your head back and right so sharply that all goes black. When you regain your senses the demon has a hand in your hair, holding your head steady with the blade poised millimetres from your right eye. 

“I was going to take my time, bleed you like a pig before moving onto the big stuff, but maybe I’ll take your eyes first, would you like that?” Your anger dissolves leaving icy cold terror in its place as panic drives you to struggle furiously against your bonds and the hand at your scalp, trying to increase the distance between yourself and the blade. But the ropes have been tied too well, the cord at your throat tightening, cutting off air as you fight to get away. Your chest heaves as you try to take in sufficient air to stem the tide of panic and your blood pounds in your ears as you fight to stay conscious. The demon, happy with this response smiles once more and relaxes the hand with the blade, moving it down and away from your field of vision. 

“That’s better, I like it when you show proper respect for the situation”. Without warning he pulls the knife back then thrusts it forwards into your shoulder, twisting the keen blade against sinew and muscle, grinding it against bone with a terrible, wet, scraping sound. Although you swore you would not give him the satisfaction, a scream escapes your throat and the black veil threatens to descend again. You clamp your lips tightly together, biting down on further treacherous screams before they can escape. You try again to take deeper, calming breaths, but the tightened rope at your throat restricts this process and your panic grows.

It’s at that moment that you hear a shout – your name being yelled – and a scuffling and pounding from somewhere to your left. The hand in your hair disappears, and its sudden absence leaves your head to fall forwards onto your chest, tightening the strangle cord even further. Your body has almost reached its limit, and the onset of shock and lack of oxygen are causing a not unpleasant lethargy. The black spots in your vision amalgamate and you feel yourself slipping into darkness. Oblivious to the sounds of fighting and screams of pain around you, you welcome the oncoming nothingness which opens up to swallow you whole…

But something pulls you back, a hand underneath your chin, a sudden release of pressure at your neck and you are being lifted out of the chair and laid gently down on the floor.

“Is she…?” Sam’s voice, fear making him sound harsh and impatient. You feel fingers at your throat and something pressing on the wound at your shoulder, but everything feels as though it’s happening at a distance. Then Dean’s voice sounds, close to your ear and your heart jumps as you realise he is crouched down beside you, hands running the length of your body to check for injuries that require urgent attention.

“She’s breathing, but her pulse is barely there and she’s got breaks all over, that bastard!” Dean lays a hand on your cheek and another brushes the hair back from your forehead. When he speaks again his voice is gentle, tender almost. “Y/N, can you hear me?” You struggle to open your eyes, but it’s hard, like fighting against treacle, you just want to sleep. You manage to half open one eye, and as Dean’s face swims slowly into focus, pinched and full of concern, you muster the effort to mutter a half intelligible “I’m OK”. He smiles then, the smile that you love, the one that lights up his whole face and is a rarity these days. “Thank God!” he lets out a shaky breath and sits down heavily beside you. “I thought we were too late”. You try to speak again, but your lips are too dry and damaged to form proper words, so what comes out is barely more than a groan, prompting an exchange of worried looks between the boys.

“Dean, we need to get her to a hospital” Sam nudges him and Dean shifts to his feet, then gently slides his hands underneath you, lifting you up to cradle you against his chest like a small child. He smells of grease and gun powder, but you don’t think you have ever smelt anything more wonderful. “Let’s go Princess” he nuzzles the top of your head with his chin, planting a quick kiss there when he’s certain that Sam isn’t watching. As the darkness comes to claim you once more, you fall into it gladly, safe in the arms of the man you love.


End file.
